


Drop-Off

by ShadowoftheLamp



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Gen, Morty Daycare, pocket mortys - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-10-14 03:03:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10527489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowoftheLamp/pseuds/ShadowoftheLamp
Summary: A Morticia is dropped off at the Daycare. Pocket Mortys.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this little drabble a while ago to try and play around in the Daycare, and I'm posting it now in honor of SEASON THREEEEE. 
> 
> If anyone has suggestions in the Pocket Morty universe (that don't involve RickMorty) I'll take them! 
> 
> Also reviews are my lifeblood.

“Drop-off or pick-up?”

“Drop-off. Picked up a Morticia, wanted to put her in storage.”

“Got it. Sign here. Morticia, hand out.” Storage Rick grabbed her hand, injecting something into her arm.

“H-hey!”

“Relax, it’s just a number chip so your Rick gets you back. There aren’t many of you, so it could happen.” He withdrew the needle. “Now go play with the other Mortys.”

She tugged at her hair, slowly walking past the entrance room and back into the actual daycare. It was swarming with Mortys of all shapes and sizes- from ones who were entirely normal but for shirt color or what they were holding, to one that was some sort of grotesque cloned monstrosity and another that was literally a slice of pizza.

“H-hello?”

“Hey. Welcome to the hellpit.” A greaser Morty said, chewing on a toothpick. “It’s a free-for-all in here. Good luck.”

“How long have you been here?”

“Almost since this alllllll started. My Rick’s never coming back. I’m a level eight. N-not of any use.” Bitterness tainted his voice. “I’ll be here until somebody’s Morty dies and they need a replacement.”

“Jeez. How do you know what level you are?”

“Rick’s got a scanner. The one at the desk, Rick. You’re pretty high, though, I think. He probably wanted to put you in a reserve deck.”

“So… I just… wait here?”

“Yup.” He turned away, and Morticia figured he was done talking. Before she could explore more, a Morty whose forehead was wrapped in bandages grabbed her hand.

“Ohhhh, new… new one. Haven’t seen one'a you in- in a while. Come on in.”

“Don’t listen to goth boy over there, it’s not that bad,” a Morty holding a squirming cat added.

“Greaser, not goth!” Greaser Morty snapped, before sighing and adjusting his jacket.

“Riiiiight. Stop it, Rick!” The Morty holding the cat said with exasperation as it swiped it his cheek.

“Ooooh, a Morticia?” This time it was a Morty made of ice. “Hey, Biggie, come look at her!”

Within moments, she was swarmed by other Mortys.

“Oh, they usually don’t drop Morticias off!”

“Like from the Addams family?”

“No, moron, like a female Morty!”

Morticia nervously wrung her extra headband in her hands as they all crowded around her and the Rick at the desk yelled back for them to shut up.

“Give her space! Back off! Order!” A Guard Morty barked. “We’re all Mortys, and she’s nothing special!”

“Wow, thanks.” She muttered, but was grateful for the help and told him so.

“They don’t do this to all the fresh meat, just the rare ones.” He reassured her. “Scared the shit out of him, since he was the first of his kind, though.” He threw his thumb back at a Morty who had an old army helmet and bandages on. He was covering his ears and squeezed his eyes shut.

“Geez, th- _they_ did that?” She hugged herself.

“No, he just came here like that. From what we can tell, his Rick put him through some kind of Morty war.” The Guard Morty tutted. “He’ll probably be in here a while. Apparently when he was picked up and chipped he refused to fight- hey! Dog, hands off Rabbit!” He shoved his way through the crowd.

“So, what do we do in here?” She asked the Frozen Morty. He shrugged.

“Pretty much whatever we want. Rick gives us food twice a day, and magazines and porn twice a week. Some of us have come up with other ways to keep entertained.” He nodded to a corner, where a sweating Morty and one with a scarf were making out.

Her face screwed up like she’d swallowed a lemon, and Frozen laughed.

“Trust me, after a few weeks other Mortys start looking-”

“I’m gay.”

“Oh- Ohhhhh.” Frozen stared for a moment, before shrugging as best he could. “Your loss.”

“Does anybody… anybody talk to that one?” She pointed at the Morty in the army helmet.

“He doesn’t like it, so no. You’re free to try, though.”

In response, she squirmed her way through the room to sit next to him.

“Hey. I’m Morticia.”

“Mm.” He didn’t look up, eyes still shut.

“I’m new here.”

“C'n tell.”

“Why?”

“Nobody talks that quiet here. All yelling. Yelling, yelling. Screaming too.”

She set a hand on his shoulder, and he brushed it off.

“I’m trying to be nice.” She huffed.

“Don’t. I can’t… don’t want to. Leave me alone.”

“Fine.”

As she stood up, his arm suddenly shot out and grabbed her wrist, forcibly tugging her back down. She hit her butt hard. “Hey!”

He winced, but then started running his rough fingers along the inside of her wrist. “You… you sound like Mom.”

Her voice softened slightly. “Rick says that too.”

“Don’t mention Rick. Don’t. Don’t, don’t…” He’d closed his eyes again.

“Fine, I won’t. Sound like mom in a good way or bad way?”

“Good. Good, I haven’t heard her in… geez, dunno.” He let go of her to rub his forehead.

“Um… thanks.”

He didn’t respond. She stood up again as a Morty with a blue shirt beckoned to her, and almost missed him mutter ‘thanks for talking to me.’


End file.
